


Pointless Subterfuge; A (not so) Helpful Guide to the Art of Self-Sabotage

by obstinateRixatrix



Series: vaguely connected k/l series [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship, hcs: hunk is nb and pidge is a trans girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:03:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinateRixatrix/pseuds/obstinateRixatrix
Summary: Lance has a terrible, terrible secret he can't let anyone know, ever: he thinks Keith is cool.(it'd be a lot easier to keep secret if he didn't go around telling every alien he met)





	Pointless Subterfuge; A (not so) Helpful Guide to the Art of Self-Sabotage

**Author's Note:**

> semi-based on [my own dang comic I drew forever ago](http://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/post/156692922179/ok-ok-so-hear-me-out-escape-from-beta-traz-except). you can think of this as a spiritual sequel to [space equivalent](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784101) if you'd like.
> 
> I started this draft all the way in january, which I find hilarious, because my last 6k voltron oneshot took a single day, while this 7k oneshot took. eight months. 
> 
> shoutout to sine because forever ago she said 'lance is playing three level chess against himself about his feelings for keith. all his feelings are fond.' which is actually what inspired this fic. also shoutout to lex and air for lettin me yell at them during the course of this
> 
> EDIT: [this fic has art now!](http://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/post/169832717124/spirostomum-i-was-commissioned-by)

Solo missions aren't the norm for team Voltron. They’re stronger together, after all— doesn't make much sense to split them up, except under some pretty specific circumstances. But, when the team does split up for low-key stuff, it’s rare enough that Lance should probably appreciate having some time for himself. As massive as the castle-ship is, there’s a very limited amount of people on board; not enough for a football team, unless the mice get involved, and that just seems like a bad idea all around. So yeah. Seeing new places, meeting new people, especially as the Blue Paladin of Voltron, it’s nice. Refreshing. Doesn’t stop him from leaping directly into Hunk’s arms when everyone finally catches up to him.

“What took you so long!” he scolds, still clinging to them. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago! Here I am, working my butt off, and you guys have the nerve to be late!”

“Sorry, sorry,” they say, rolling their eyes. “Things got a little complicated.”

“There wasn’t supposed to be any sentries left in my area, but apparently, there were. Not for long, though.” Pidge grins, unapologetically smug, which means she probably did something really cool that he’s going to hear all about later.

After some uncoordinated flailing and awkward maneuvering, Lance manages to snag her for a hug without upending himself. “You're so clingy!” She laughs, giving him a solid five seconds before she starts trying to escape. “It's been what, a week?”

“You're one to talk! Remind me again, who exactly was crying over Hunk the _last_ time we split up?”

“You know I’m always up for a good reunion, but I’m not going to spend the entire time cradling you in my arms,” Hunk complains, right in time for Keith to disembark from the castle-ship.

“Are you ever going to let that go?” he asks, clearly not a fan of Hunk’s phrasing.

Lance, arms pinwheeling all over the place, scrambles out of Hunk’s arms so he can run over and throw an arm over Keith’s shoulder.

“Hey there, samurai,” he greets, leaning just enough get the both of them precariously on the cusp of actually losing balance. “You're looking chipper as always. Stab anything good lately?”

Keith rights himself, elbowing Lance as he does. There's not quite a grin on his face, but there's the slight quirk of a barely-present smile. “Trust me, you'd be the first to know."

Lance lets out a laugh at that, pulling Keith in a headlock and ruthlessly mussing up his hair. "Is that supposed to be a threat? Just try it, buster—"

There's a pointed ' _a-hem'_ , and there's the princess, followed by Shiro and Coran. Lance stands at attention, bowing with exaggerated formality. "Princess," Lance greets. “Welcome to planet Arkoh.”

Coran inspects his posture, nudging him the slightest bit lower. "Five degrees off!" he remarks. "For some societies, that's the difference between a gesture of respect, and a grievous insult to their cravat."

"What if they don't have a cravat?" Lance asks. "Also, what the heck's a cravat?"

"It's something like a scarf, isn't it?" Shiro supplies, not looking too certain.

"Lance," Allura interrupts in an exasperated tone, even though he wasn't even talking right then. But, she can't stay annoyed for too long; she smiles, which proves Lance is just too charming and Allura’s totally fond of his shenanigans. "It's good to see you're well. How have things been here?”

Alright. Serious business time. “It’s been pretty quiet. Everyone’s mostly worried about reconstruction and stuff, plus rebuilding a lot of... communication networks, I guess?” From what he’s been told it's probably more complicated than that, but it really just boils down to everyone needing to talk to each other. “I’ve been helping as much as I can, but I’m just one guy, even if I’m a guy with a giant robot lion.”

“They weren't like, fighting over you, were they?” Hunk asks, scrunching their nose at the thought. “Remember that one planet where everyone was like, go here! No! Go there! Do this, but actually that other thing is more important and if you help those other people first we’ll yell a lot and it won't be a good time!”

“Nah, there was this meeting where a bunch of folks scheduled out when and where Blue was needed most.” Extremely boring, but it sure did make everyone’s job easier. “Actually, Tulthyr was basically in charge of that! She’s kind of like a secretary, but like, for the planet? Also the mayor?”

“She’s the secretary for mayor?” Keith asks. “Or is she the mayor of the planet?”

“No, no, she’s like, joint mayor-slash-world-secretary,” Lance explains. “She’s in charge of her own area, but she also schedules a lot of stuff on like, a huge scale. She’s really cool, definitely who we should talk to about what the setup here is.”

“Well then,” Allura says, “lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

It doesn't take long to make their way over to the seaside settlement Tulthyr’s set up at, but it takes a little while to get through town; the natives on Arkoh— Illuvians— are basically like huge birds, in that they've got feathers, a beak, and also they can fly. Other than that, they’re not, since birds generally aren't seven feet tall, and don't have bat-like wings. In terms of anatomy. Like, the wings _look_ like bird wings, feathers and all, but they're kind of shaped like bat wings. At first it doesn't seem like that big a difference, but like. Bat wings are hands. It makes a huge difference.

In any case, there's a lot of places that are kind of hard to get to without being able to fly, even with all the pulley systems and walkways designed to get anyone flightless to where they need to go. On top of that, everyone in town wants to say hi, because hello, it's _Voltron_. Who wouldn't want to meet the best pilots in the universe! So between zero flying and lots of people, it just takes a while for them to get anywhere. Finally, though, they finally make it to the town-hall equivalent, which is a modest building-type thing carved into the underside of a cliff.

When they get to her office, she’s busy as ever, scribbling on loose sheets of paper and flying them up to whatever little wall-space still exists. Even the ceiling is covered with names, graphs, timetables, and everything is color-coded; it's the most organized mess Lance has ever seen, like some ascended room-wide version of Keith’s conspiracy board. Except it's all about scheduling politics.

“Hey there, stranger!” Lance calls, waving her over. The second she notices, she does a dive bomb right for him, practically a blur of blue, several sheets of paper still caught in her beak.

“Blhhw!” She spits out the paper and cloaks him with her wings, which feels less like a hug and more like getting briefly crushed by a feathered cave. “Blue!” she repeats, and she steps back to survey everyone. “You brought guests! I take it you're the rest of Voltron?”

Everyone gives a vague chorus of greetings at various levels of enthusiasm; on one end of the spectrum, Coran’s sweeping bow at a non-insulting angle as he declares what a pleasure it is to meet her acquaintance, and on the other end, there’s Keith with an awkward and silent wave.

“It's wonderful to meet under calmer circumstances,” Allura says, stepping forward. “You’re the mayor?”

“That’s what Blue calls it,” Tulthyr says, knocking a good-natured wing against Lance’s head, “but it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“You seem… young." It's weirdly undiplomatic, especially since they're both probably around the same age, as far as Lance figures— minus a ten-thousand year nap. It's also hard to tell just what Allura’s trying to get across. Sympathy? In any case. Tulthyr doesn't seem bothered.

“You can tell?" She trills something like a laugh. "Well, it's something I had to step into. Anyway, I believe introductions are in order?”

“Oh! Right! This is Tulthyr! She's my favorite.” Lance says the last part in a stage-whisper, throwing a wink her way. He would've thrown an arm over her shoulder to properly express camaraderie, but she's a little too tall for that.

“I am so sorry for him,” Pidge says. Rude.

“Don't be!” Tulthyr whaps a wing against Lance’s back. “He’s my favorite too.”

“He is?”

“He’s practically clutch-kin. Can’t you see the resemblance?” she asks, gesturing towards Lance’s armor and her own blue plumage.

"And that's why she's my favorite!" Lance sticks his tongue out, holding up his hand for a high-five. Tulthyr pats her feathered arm-wing thing lightly against it.

And then she immediately betrays him with, “Now that you're all here, I’m looking forward to picking a new favorite."

That gets an indignant squawk from Lance, and a good chuckle out of everyone else. Absolutely heartless.

"I can't believe you! I told them you were cool!"

"She is," Pidge says. She holds out her hand, glances at the wing, and sort of waves again instead. "I'm Pidge. As you can probably tell, I'm the green pilot."

"The tech specialist, right?" Tulthyr sweeps a wing over Pidge’s head, knocking her glasses slightly askew. "I've been hearing a lot about what a genius you are."

“Wow,” Pidge says, looking pleased. She glances over at Lance. “Why can't you be this nice in person?”

“I’m plenty nice!”

"So that’s two out of seven— got a new favorite?" Pidge asks, sowing the seeds of catastrophe.

"Really?” Lance glares down at her. “You’re really going to—"

"It's Red!"

Everyone looks at Keith, who stares in bewilderment. "Me?" he asks, which is the only thing he's even said this entire conversation. "Why?"

Another trill, and Keith’s subjected to one of Tulthyr’s wing-pats. "Kind of was decided the second everyone landed. I mean, going from what Blue’s been saying—"

Oh no.

 

* * *

 

_“I can't thank you enough for what you've done. For what you're doing.” Her feathers rustle despite the still air. The two of them keep vigil over the setting suns, watching the slow descent beyond the sea. “Everyone always talks about Voltron like it's some kind of… great warrior god that will save the universe. I never believed in it. Now that I know someone piloting it, it feels a lot more real.”_

_“Really?" he asks. "You feel better knowing how human we are? Well, mostly human," he amends._

_An ambivalent hum; she tilts her head as she mulls over his words, angling so that he's just barely in her line of sight. “I don't think species has anything to do with it," she says._

_“No, I mean...” he lets out a quiet breath, caught in half-formed certainties he's yet to voice. “We can make mistakes, y'know? We’re doing our best, but that's not always enough.”_

_A moment of silence, broken only by the ebb and flow of the waves. Tide's coming in, the sea climbing ever so slightly towards them._

_“War takes a lot out of us," she says, finally, "but I think that’s why we need you to be 'mostly human'. You care about each other. That's something I can believe in. As long as I know you're fighting for each other, I know you're fighting for us, too." She gives him a nudge, and what he can recognize as a smile. "The bond between paladins is the stuff of legend, after all."_

_And it's true. Even now, it's hard to believe. In all his daydreams of fame and glory, ‘intergalactic legacy’ was too far-fetched to even register as a possibility, except, that's his life now. “It’s weird," he admits. "We haven't actually been together that long. Or, most of us haven't. Me and Hunk, we go way back, we were already best buds, but Keith? I hated him at first!”_

_“The red one?" A brief, incredulous squawk-like sound escapes her. "You speak of him so fondly now!”_

_"Yeah, now, but before all this—" he gestures, a futile attempt to encompass everything 'this' could possibly mean "—he was my rival. He was just so good at everything! And before it was like, ugh! There goes Keith, doing something super cool again! But now it's like, woah! There goes Keith, doing something super cool again!"_

_“So I’ve heard,” she says, in a tone so mild it’s got to be a dig at his expense. “What changed?”_

_“We had a bonding moment." He can't help but grin at the joke, taken by a certain nostalgia. "We got used to each other, I guess. And he ended up being a good enough guy that I couldn't actually keep hating him. Not that I ever did. He's just… the hero type.” A simple description, but a fitting one. “He thinks he can do anything, and sometimes he can't, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He's exactly the kind of guy you'd want piloting Voltron."_

_Another pause. Then, “You miss him, huh.”_

_“Yeah." It's easy to admit, as long as he keeps staring out towards the alien sea. "It'll be nice to see him again."_

 

* * *

 

Lance lets out a sudden shriek— except no, not a shriek, a perfectly dignified yelp— and he practically tackles Tulthyr before she can relate any of that. It doesn't really do much because she's a 7-foot-tall alien-bird-dinosaur-whatever, but at least it puts a complete halt to all conversation.

An incredibly conspicuous halt. Now everyone's staring at him.

Lance lets out a completely natural-sounding laugh that isn't stilted at all. “Let’s finish up the introductions! You met Allura, that was Pidge, there’s Hunk, Shiro, Coran, and Keith! Great! I think we have more important things to talk about?”

Another pause.

“Well,” Allura starts, and because of her incredible, amazing, wonderful leadership, she turns her attention to more important things for them to talk about. “Before we get anywhere, I do believe we have some catching up to do. Tell me, how has your planet been these past ten-thousand years?”

“Gosh. That’s a tough one.” Tulthyr taps her talons on the ground in a contemplative triplette. “History isn't my strong suit, but the Galra’s been around for as long as I remember, and it’s been pretty isolating for all of us. Since you’ve stopped by and kicked them out, I’ve been organizing meetings between leaders of major settlements, leaders of minor settlements, and basically anyone that yells loud enough.”

“For the whole planet?” Coran asks, obviously impressed. “That’s quite the job!”

“It works. And if it doesn't, I make it work. Now,” Tulthyr walks over to a particularly colorful wall, plucking out enough paper to make a pretty large stack, and drops it in front of the team. “Since you're here, I’ve got a preliminary schedule for you. I’m sure you can’t stay long since you're busy saving the universe, but if you can stay ‘til tonight, we have a reception planned. It's mostly politics— probably relevant to your interests, for a given definition of ‘interest’. If you can't stay that long, I can call an emergency meeting and try to streamline the process as much as possible for whatever we need to hash out before you leave.”

“Is that possible?” Shiro asks. “Bureaucracy tends to be pretty slow, from my experience.”

“Look,” Tulthyr says, “Don't even worry about it.  Also, don't feel like you have to go through these formalities, it’s up to you guys.”

“We can stay,” Allura assures. “We’ll be looking forward to it. All of us.” She elbows Keith until his expression gets less like he swallowed a lemon. The five stages of grief flickers across his face before leveling out into reluctant acceptance. Sorry Keith, it's party time.

“Oh, wonderful! In that case, I’ve also got schedules for each of you to optimize the time you spend here before the reception! If you want to, of course. I also have schedules for if anyone wants unscheduled itineraries.”

Allura blinks. “Unscheduled—?”

“It means your schedule just gets a big block of free time right up until it's time for diplomacy,” Tulthyr explains. “You get to do whatever and explore whatever, but without something planned out, it’s going to be more of a hassle to get cleared for some areas.”

Pidge picks up a sheet from one of the paper stacks, skimming over it. “Out of curiosity, what did you have scheduled for us?”

“Depends!” Tulthyr fluffs up her feathers, steeping her wings and almost knocking Lance over in the process. “If you want to go alone, Green, the best place for you is Research and Recovery up in the north. It’ll be the most productive, and probably the most engaging for you. A likely combination of Green and Yellow would most likely benefit most from a visit to the scholars, also in the north, but further up; they’re pretty close with Research and Recovery, but with more of a broad application, definitely something that benefits from having multiple disciplines involved. Green-Yellow-Blue would be best in the agricultural fields not too far from here; Blue’s pretty familiar with the area, so he can show you around and introduce you to folks that would love to talk to you. Green and Red, there should be something in the data archives that appeals to both of your interests, judging from what Blue’s said; we can arrange a copy of some stuff for you to take, but if you two decide to go for an in-person visit I’d have to insist on Black accompanying you— maybe not the most optimal for Black, but-”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Hunk interrupts, raising a hand. “Did you plan this out for like, every possible combination?”

“Of course!”

Hunk stares down at the various reams of paper shoved before them. “This is going to take a while.”

“Don't worry, you have some time before I’ll just mark you all down for ‘unscheduled itinerary’. Might as well start with the far-left column, since I’m sure Blue would rather go with—”

“I’ll let you guys decide!” Lance interrupts, looping an arm vaguely around Tulthyr’s wing as he pulls her to the side. “I know this place like the back of my hand already, take all the time you need!”

Once it looks like everyone’s caught up in Tulthyr’s incredibly detailed multitude of plans, and once he’s got her on the other side of the office, he grabs her by the shoulder. Or, near the shoulder; she’s really, really tall. “Tulthyr!” he hisses. “You can’t go telling Keith how I feel about him! You can’t tell anyone! It’s _private!”_

“Is it?” she asks, at completely normal speaking voice. Keith looks over. Lance shoots him a totally convincing thumbs up. “Well, alright then.”

Oh, huh. For some reason, Lance didn’t think it’d be that easy.

“But, even if I don’t say anything, you’ve talked about him an awful lot,” she continues, still not _lowering her voice_. “I’m not sure you can tell everyone to keep your feelings private.”

Lance stares out the window. The suns are high above, making their slow crawl across the sky. The settlement is bustling with activity. There goes Mythal, flying over towards this very building, no doubt with another complaint for Tulthyr. And a green blob lower down— Kiga?— going over to the market. He’s always hanging around, trying to find more pigments he can use to spruce up his house. Even further below, a myriad of overlapping blurs, each going about their day; some folks Lance knows, some he doesn’t.

Why can’t he ever make things easy for himself.

 

* * *

 

Allura, Hunk, and Pidge ends up checking out some communication thing. Coran goes to the archives, while Shiro goes off into unscheduled territory.

Lance, to no one’s surprise, ends up with Keith.

“Well,” Lance says, “here we are!”

‘Here’ happens to be a massive forest bustling with activity. Illuvians fly around, occasionally calling out a greeting down towards Lance.

“So like, while you guys were destroying the moon bases— control points?— whatever Pidge calls them, I was down here doing damage control,” Lance explains. Keith probably knows most of this, but, talking endlessly about what they both know is better than the alternatives. The alternatives being: 1) awkward silence, or 2) Keith trying to talk. “Sure, the big drone-things were deactivated, but no one felt totally okay with them just lying around, I mean, what if something happens and they just started up again? What if they blow up? And like, there’s just _so much_ ocean, so if we lost track of where they landed, it’s just not ideal, and at first everyone was super sure that their area was the most important place to check—”

"Hey."

Oh, this can't be good. Lance risks a glance over to Keith, who looks a little awkward, like he has no idea what he's doing. Doesn't stop him from just going for it, though.

“If you’re worried about Til— Tal—?”

“Tulthyr,” Lance supplies.

“If you're worried about Tulthyr, don't be.” Keith offers an uncertain pat on the shoulder. “She was probably teasing you. I'm sure you're still her favorite."

“I’m her—?” Holy crow, _that’s_ what he thinks Lance is worked up over?

This works.

"Yeah! That was the problem! Thanks Keith! I feel great now!"

Alright, maybe he oversold it, because Keith stares at him, eyebrows drawn in obvious skepticism. "Okay..?"

"Yep!"

Definitely oversold it; Keith lets out a frustrated sigh, which kind of stings, honestly.

“You know you can talk to me, right? We’re friends, aren't we?”

Lance sputters out a laugh, shooting for ‘carefree’ but probably landing somewhere around ‘hysterical’. “What? Why would you even ask that!”

“Is it ‘why would I ask if we’re friends’, or ‘why would I ask if we’re _not_ friends’?” Keith crosses his arms, suspiciously close to glaring despite the whole friendship affirmation thing. "I really hope we're past the point where you can admit we're friends."

"Yes! We're friends! Wow, glad we got that cleared up, problem solved!"

"Lance—"

“Is that Blue I see?”

Lance looks around for the source of the call, before remembering: oh yeah. Everyone here can fly. He looks up just in time to see Yedae gliding down towards him and Keith, their red plumage striking against the green canopy of the forest.

“Does everyone call you that?” Keith asks.

“Oh, no,” Yedae says, a light croon of amusement underscoring their voice, “it’s Tul’s influence, I’m afraid. Every time we talk it's been about Blue.”

“Oh.” The conversation dies immediately. After a beat, Keith seems to realize everyone’s waiting on him to revive it. “So, you’re her… friend?”

Watching Keith suffer through smalltalk is just too painful. “This is Yedae,” Lance says, out of the kindness of his heart. “They’re basically in charge of taking apart all the drones we dredge up. They’re also the one who tells everyone where to look.”

“Having Blue really speed up the process.” They hold a wing out to Keith. “This is Red, I assume? I’ve heard so much—”

“—About what a hothead you are!” Lance finishes. “Oh, man, I probably bored poor Yedae to _death_ with all my stories about you rushing into danger, Keith!”

“No?” Yedae tilts their head. “Not at all?”

“Looks like you got a fan!” Lance gives Keith a hearty slap on the back. “Aren't you popular!”

Keith stares at Lance. “Thanks?”

“Hey, maybe we should head over to Blue,” Lance suggests, before any more talking can happen.

Yedae casts an uncertain at Lance, then to Keith.

“Blue-Blue, not me-Blue,” Lance clarifies. “Might as well be productive, right? Keith can help!”

Sure, this is technically working overtime, but having a mission is probably enough to keep Keith distracted. Now all Lance has to do is figure out what job he can foist onto him.

 

* * *

 

“Who’s he talking to?” Lance whispers, trying to very subtly glance around. The reception’s in full swing, the team spread throughout the cavernous room, but only on the ground floor; there’s lofts all around, but zero stairs. Which, on the bright side, makes it easy to keep track of everyone. But it sure would be easier if he had some kind of strategic height advantage.

“You know, he’s pretty far,” Hunk points out. “I don’t think there’s any point in whispering. Also, you could just turn around.”

“Of course I can’t!” Lance yells, but still in a whisper. “He’ll see!”

“He really won’t.” But, even as Hunk rolls their eyes, they crane their head to look past Lance. “Okay, uh, oldish I think, green feathers and yellow on top, which, not gonna lie, kind of looks like a hat—”

“No!” Lance grabs Hunk, pulling them so they're eye-level. “Are you kidding me! Kel’s like, the worst gossip!”

“Is that bad at gossiping, or gossips a lot?”

“Both!” Lance hisses, then he whips around and practically sprints over to where Kel and Keith are talking. “Hey!” Lance greets, completely nonchalant as he slows his approach to a reasonable speed the second they glance over. “Kel! Keith! You’re... talking!”

“Why, we certainly are!” Kel says, very sincerely matching Lance’s enthusiasm even as her voice rasps with age, spoken at a particularly slow drawl. “Paladin Lance, I was just telling Paladin Keith how much I have been looking forward to meeting him! He reminds me so much of my grandson.” She makes a sound like a coughing pigeon waking up after a hundred-year nap in the desert, then sweeps a wing over Keith’s head. “He is utterly delightful, just as you said!”

“I’m _what?"_  Keith asks, staring at Kel in utter bafflement.

“ _Not_ what I said! At all!” Lance strains to keep the grin on his face. “Remember my friend Hunk? I’m sure I’ve told you about them! Hey Hunk! Yeah, I’m talking to you, bud! Get over here!”

“Hi,” Hunk says after trudging reluctantly over, summoned by Lance’s frantic waving. “I’m Hunk.”

“Oh, yes! Paladin Hunk! I have just the thing for you!”

“Is that… a toaster oven?” Hunk asks, interest instantly piqued as Kel pulls something big out of her massive shoulder bag— it’s a mystery how Hunk got ‘toaster oven’ from the large, green, cylindrical whatever-it-is.

“Perhaps not what we call it, but it certainly toasts! At least, it used to, back in its heyday.” Kel lets out a mournful whistle. “I was going to dispose of it, but Paladin Lance has been talking so much about your interest in machinery, and I suppose this old bird simply cannot bear to condemn anything to the scrap heap, not when there's a chance it will find a new home.” She holds out the weird tube. “Paladin Hunk, would you mind..?”

“Ma’am, I’d be honored,” Hunk says, holding the not-toaster oven reverently. “Oh man, so like, why are all these wires exposed? Is that why it's broken, or is it supposed to look like that?”

“Well—”

With that redirection in full swing, Lance sighs with relief, and turns back to the problem at hand. “Whatever she said, _don't believe a word_ ,” Lance mutters. “She’s going senile.”

“You’re not talking about me, are you?”

Lance looks over, and there’s Tulthyr, who was apparently talking to Keith during the whole thing with Kel.

“Anyway,” Tulthyr continues, “that's when Blue—”

“So!” Lance interrupts, practically jumping in-between them. “Reception! Tulthyr! Great job setting it up!”

“Hardly.” She snaps her beak together with a light click, but, she goes with the change in topic easily enough. “I’ve just been harassing everyone to do their job. It's a lot easier to gather people with having the paladins of Voltron as a selling point; now that I finally have Jeldil and Goz in the same place, maybe I can get a concrete answer from them about what’s happening with their borders. Are they going to merge or not? It sure would be nice to know.”

Any time Tulthyr talks politics, it ends up sounding like a large-scale version of family reunions. It's kind of interesting, but maybe that’s just because all Lance knows about what’s going on is filtered through Tulthyr’s extremely pointed complaints.

Tulthyr clicks her beak again, looking around at everyone milling about. “This is painful. Now I know why no one ever wants to set these gigs up.”

Keith perks up, no doubt relieved to find an ally in the no-fun zone. “You don't go to them?”

“Nah, I usually deal with the end result, not the execution. The stuff I do is more of a backstage type of job, not a spotlight one.”

“Why are you here?”

“Keith, don't be rude,” Lance scolds. He turns to Tulthyr. “So, why are you here?”

“Well, it's a pretty important event, and I did organize most of it—”

_(“You asked the same thing, how is that any different from what I said!”)_

_(“I said ‘so’! It completely changes the tone!”)_

_(“...Right.”)_

“—but I really just wanted to see you off.”

Lance jolts back to the actual conversation. “Huh?”

“Don't look so surprised, this is probably the last time we see each other. For a while, at least.” She gives Lance a rough pat on the head, her wing temporary eclipsing the lights overhead. “Did you think you could just fly off like some big cool hero? Get real, kid.”

“I was going to drop by before we left!” Lance insists, as he tries to comb his hair back into some semblance of style. No way he’d leave before saying goodbye. Except, goodbyes are happening right now, which means he doesn't get the chance to really prepare for it. It doesn't feel real, the way sprung onto him so suddenly, which is kind of better, but kind of not. There’s a lot he wants to say.

He’ll just try to stick with the most important stuff.

“Hey,” he starts, “good job. With like, everything. You’re making a lot of progress here. Things have gotten good.”

“Couldn't have done it without you.” Tulthyr looks at Lance with a fond cant, and there's something about it that makes him feel… younger, maybe. "Look out for each other, yeah? Go save the universe. Next time you stop by, things here will be even better."

 

* * *

 

So in the end, crisis averted: Keith doesn't know what Lance said.

The only problem is, Keith doesn't know what Lance said.

“Not that I don't love hanging out with you— you know I do— but please.” Hunk waves a screwdriver in Lance's general direction, elbow-deep in their new-old not-toaster oven. “Stop running from your problems. Just talk to him.”

“I can't ‘just talk to him’! It’s not that simple!” Lance gestures wildly, trying to show Hunk exactly how not-simple it is. "It's embarrassing! It's private!"

"You told a whole planet?"

Now that's an exaggeration; Lance told like, a town at most. It just kind of. Spread. "He knows I said stuff, but he doesn't know what stuff I said, so he might be thinking up stuff I didn't say, but to fix that I'd have to tell him what I said!” Lance slams his palms on the space-kitchen counter. “He'll think I think he's cool!"

"You do, though."

"But I don't want him to know that!"

"Pretty sure he already knows. This is just more of a solid confirmation." Hunk rolls their eyes. "You think all of us are cool. You think I'm cool, which is objectively wrong, there's nothing cool about motion sickness. Woah, what’s with these leaves?” Hunk pulls a fistful of green out, squinting at it. “Maybe I should've grabbed a branch before we left. Hey, do you think these are edible, or is it supposed to be a conductor for some kind of heat source? That’d be pretty wild, right?”

“How should I know!? No, what are you doing, don’t _lick_ it!” Lance yells, smacking the leaves out of Hunk’s hands. “You don't know how old it is! Or where it’s been!”

“I mean, I just pulled it from the toaster oven, so I’m pretty sure that’s where it’s been. Anyway, you really just need to talk to Keith. You’re really backsliding with him.”

A sharp stab of dread cuts through Lance. “I’m what?”

“You’re kind of regressing."

No.

"Going backwards?"

_No._

"Like, it’s starting to feel like when we first got on the castle, y’know?”

“No!” The chair clatters to the floor as Lance stands, the sound of it almost as deafening as the sound of his pounding heart. “It’s... it’s not the same,” he says, hating the desperate edge that creeps into his voice. “Why would you say that?”

Hunk fumbles with their screwdriver, finally setting it down with a light tap. And it’s great that them and Lance, they both know each other better than anyone else, but now, when Hunk looks at him, Lance hates how transparent he feels.

“I don't mean like, that’s really, actually, one hundred percent how it is,” Hunk says, a layer of delicate sympathy blanketing their words, “I’m just saying you kind of went from alright with Keith, to basically quarantining him into a weird Keith-zone except you’re still constantly around him.” They make a vaguely apologetic face. “Kind of how you were before.”

“That's not how it is!” Lance insists. “Don't—”

The door opens.

It's Keith.

Before this shocking turn of events even fully registers, Lance is already throwing himself into the space-pantry besides Hunk, and holy crow he’s going to have to send up a prayer for Coran’s grandpa (or whoever built the castle) because by some architectural serendipity, Keith can’t actually see Lance’s escape from where he comes in. Lance is completely in the clear.

“Hunk,” Keith greets, slightly muffled by the closed door. “Have you seen Lance?”

“Uh— who? Nope! Not— no, can't say I’ve seen that guy around, he's not here! Nowhere! Hey, do you think you could eat this leaf?“

And right around now is when Lance remembers, oh yeah, Hunk’s the worst liar on Earth. Off Earth, even. But there's still hope! As terrible as Hunk is at lying, maybe Keith is even worse at picking up lies! There's still a chance Keith doesn't know where Lance is!

“No thanks,” Keith says, an unmistakably dry edge to his tone. There’s a light thump as something leans heavy against the space-pantry doors.

He definitely knows.

“Do you know what’s going on with him?” Keith asks, his voice much clearer than before— both because he’s closer, and because he’s speaking at a volume that barely qualifies as an indoor voice. “He’s been a lot more _Lance_ than usual.”

_What’s that even supposed to mean!_

“Look, try not to take it personally,” Hunk says, like the good friend they are. “You know Lance. He’s a pretty simple guy who makes everything complicated. He’s playing, like, three-level chess against himself for absolutely no reason.”

Never mind, Hunk is a traitor and a scoundrel. But. It’s not like Lance can argue against that assessment. If he did, he’d risk revealing his hiding spot.

Well, confirming it.

There's a loaded silence— is it silence?— which is absolutely nerve-wracking. Then, “Tell Lance I’m looking for him,” and the sound of a door sliding shut. A space-door.

After a few seconds, a knock on the space-pantry. “Coast is clear, you can come out now.”

Lance spills out of the cramped space, landing face-down on the floor. He lets out a sustained groan, the sound of a man forced to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

“Keith’s looking—”

“Yeah, Hunk, I know.”

Lance heaves out a sigh.

He really can't keep this up, otherwise everything’s just going to keep getting worse.

Lance reaches out, flailing until he grabs ahold of one of Hunk’s legs. They just stand there, patient as ever as Lance mulls over his options. Jeez, he doesn't deserve someone like them, the best-worst-best friend a guy could ask for. “I’ll deal with this,” Lance promises, which is at least the bare minimum he can do.

“Good,” Hunk says. They reach down to pat Lance on the head.

Well. The best time to get something over with is ‘never’, but if that's impossible, 'immediately' is a good runner-up.

 

* * *

 

Lance finds Keith in one of the common rooms. He’s reading a holopad, except, the second Lance walks in, he’s just glaring at Lance, not even pretending otherwise.

Lance should… well, he probably should've thought about what he was going to say. An apology's a good place to start.

“Since when were you so passive-aggressive?” Lance asks, dropping down to sit next to Keith. “Isn't your whole thing direct confrontation and blowing stuff up? I mean, you could've just said something to my face.”

And there goes Lance, hurling a cannonball right from his own glass house.

Keith rolls his eyes, which honestly: fair. “Looks like I picked up some of your bad habits.”

Again: fair.

Keith sets down the holopad. Looks like he’s ready to get right into it. Good ol’ Keith, predictable as ever; all Lance has to do is show up, not run away, and Keith’ll be ready to throw down.

“Can you just… just tell me what I did wrong.”

What?

“What?” Lance asks, out loud this time.

“What did I do,” Keith says, which doesn't clear anything up.

“Nothing?”

“Then why are you acting like this!” Now, this is closer to what Lance was expecting, but it’s not the right shade of upset; Keith’s supposed to be pissed at Lance, not caught in this blanket of distress. “I thought you were past this whole— this _t_ _hing_ you have against me, what changed!”

“Nothing! Look, just— trust me, this whole thing is just, it’s me blowing things out of proportion, as usual.” Lance laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry about talking behind your back and getting weird about it.”

“It’s not about that!” Keith holds himself taut with frustration, fists clenched at his side. “I can handle it if this is how it's going to be from now on, but what I can't handle is you going back and forth all the time! If you hate me, can't we just get this over with?”

“I don't!?” Lance tries, still scrambling to figure out what the heck is happening. “I don't hate you!”

“Why else would you be acting like this!”

“It's complicated!”

“What’s complicated about it!” And then Keith sighs, a heavy breath that seems to take all his energy with it. All that’s left is something subdued, uncertain. “What’s it going to take for you to say what you feel? Is it really so bad if I know what you actually think about me?”

And Lance could’ve handled more yelling, that would’ve been easy enough, but having to navigate something as important as Keith being vulnerable— Keith! Vulnerable!— Lance’s thoughts scatter with panic, which is entirely unhelpful because instead of scrabbling together some convincing excuse or plausible diversion or anything that could've been the right thing to say, he just freezes up. Which is. Great. Absolutely fantastic.

“Lance,” Keith says, and there’s something about his tone that sends Lance’s frenzied heart into some transcendental state of hysteria. “Just, tell me how you feel.”

“I think you're really cool!” Lance blurts out.

Keith blinks. “What?”

The truth finally comes out, huh. “You’re incredible, y'know?” Lance continues. “It's like you were born for this kind of stuff! You're the kind of guy that saves people! You’re the kind of guy people want to get saved by! You don't need to be a tech wizard, or a mechanical genius, or anything like that, you’re just _Keith_ and that means you can do anything!”

It'd be great if Lance could stop before he embarrasses himself any more than he already has, but nope, the floodgates are open and there's nothing in the universe that can shut him up.

“I wish I could be more like you,” Lance admits. “You belong here, and I—”

Keith takes him by the shoulders.

Alright, so there's one thing in the universe that can shut him up.

“Lance,” he says, in a voice that’s way too soft and entirely too understanding, “you belong here too.”

“Don’t—” Lance stalls, and he doesn't know what he's railing against, but he doesn’t want to hear this.

“We didn't leave you behind. You’re exactly who Arkoh needed. People feel safe around you.”

Yeah, right.

“They do,” Keith insists. “You’re good at people. When you’re not getting caught up in yourself,” he adds.

“What are you talking about?” And Lance should be putting some distance between them, he’d love to just leave already, but no, he’s trapped and spilling his guts because Keith has the gall to be emotionally supportive. “I barely did anything while you guys were out there _actually_ saving the planet!”

“Of course you did. You were the one who made the planet feel safe.” Keith smiles, and maybe it's been too long since Lance saw him like this, maybe he lost some immunity to anything that isn’t Keith set in a vague scowl, because it's… it’s dangerous, is what it is. “If you actually listened to Tulthyr, she never stopped talking about how much hope you gave her.”

“Anyone could’ve done that,” Lance protests, a last-ditch effort to muster some kind of defense.

“That’s not true. Even if it was, it doesn't change the fact that you were there for them.” Keith stares right at Lance, and it feels like a challenge, almost. “We both know I’m not perfect. No one is. You don't have to be, either.”

“Oh,” Lance says, finally, articulate as always.

“Are we good?” Keith asks.

“I— yeah, I mean, I think I need some time?” Lance says, maybe a little too close to pleading. “To process. Everything. Thanks,” he adds, belatedly.

Keith lets his hand idle on Lance’s shoulder before he leaves, a lingering reassurance, and Lance is struck by two realizations, both equally terrible.

First: Keith isn't actually half-bad at leader-type pep talks.

Second: Lance might, kind of, sort of, _maybe_ have a crush.

Shit.

**Author's Note:**

> what's ADDITIONALLY hilarious, is that, the first scene I wrote for this, the scene I basically wrote the fic for, ended up, not working out at all for the trajectory of the fic. just didn't fit the development of the fic or relationship. I'm adding it here because I'm still in mourning:
>
>>   
> “What’s it going to take for you to actually say what you feel? Is it really so bad if I know what you actually think of me?”  
> [thats not it]  
> “It’s the same as you bragging about Hunk, isn’t it?”  
> “Of course it’s-” different, it is, but Lance stops himself short of admitting it because, oh no, it’s different. It’s different and there’s no way he can say it, not to Keith, except Keith’s looking at him with some dawning clarity, because apparently now of all times the hothead decides to use his brain for once, and Lance’s thoughts scatter with panic, which is entirely unhelpful because instead of scrabbling together some convincing excuse or plausible diversion he just freezes up. Which is. Great. Absolutely fantastic.  
> “Lance,” Keith says, and there’s something about his tone that sends Lance’s frenzied heart into some transcendental state of hysteria. “What do you think of Hunk?”  
> Oh, that’s not so bad.  
> “They’re the best,” he says immediately, and if he latches a little too eagerly to such a safe topic, well, who could blame him. “Totally a genius both in and out of the kitchen, and man, you ever see what they can do with a box of scraps and a little bit of free time? I swear, they-”  
> “What do you think of Pidge?”  
> “Well,” Lance starts, taken aback but absolutely fine with the conversational redirection, “she’s ridiculously smart, I mean, there’s no way we could get away with half of what we do without our hacker backing us up.”  
> “What do you think of me?”  
> [That's not fair]  
> “You… you’re the worst! You rush in way too much, you’re terrible at thinking up plans especially when you latch onto one of your awful ideas that usually involves you throwing yourself into danger when there’s a whole lot of options that don't involve throwing yourself into danger! And the worst part is, half the time you’re good enough that none of it matters! You’ll say you’ll do something and you just find a way to do it! You’re great at fighting and it’s the worst, you’re incredible at flying, and it’s the worst, you’re so darn brave and it’s! The worst!  
> [Feels drained]  
> “I wish I could be more like you,” Lance admits. The truth finally comes out, huh. And it'd be great if he could stop before he embarrasses himself any more, but nope, the floodgates are open and there's nothing in the universe that can shut him up.  
> [smooch]  
> Alright, there's one thing in the universe that can shut him up.  
> "I like you too," Keith says.


End file.
